Resistance
by evieeden
Summary: Bella didn't want to like Sam Uley. She really didn't. But somehow he crept up on her without her knowing.
1. Chapter 1

**So this is my new story. I really should be working on my others, but the idea just popped into my head and wouldn't go away. In any case, it's my first attempt at a full-length Sam/Bella story so that's kind of exciting for me. I hope you enjoy reading it anyway. Thanks.**

**I don't own anything to do with Twilight.**

**Resistance**

"Hello Bella."

I ignored the man standing hesitantly next to me and continued to swig sullenly from the bottle of light beer sat in front of me. I didn't want to talk, didn't want to think; all I wanted to do was sit here, get drunk and wallow.

The unfamiliar drink was disgusting. I had never really drunk a lot of alcohol before, only the odd glass of wine at my mother's house, but when I had originally slouched down on my stool three hours ago and the bartender had raised an expectant eyebrow, the only drink that immediately came to mind was beer.

Next time I would ask for something different. The man in the suit at the other end of the bar had been sinking whiskeys for the last thirty minutes without pulling a face once. Maybe I would try that next.

"Do you mind if I sit?"

I squinted up at the unwelcome intruder and then shrugged. Sam Uley had over a foot in height and over a hundred pounds on me; it wasn't like I could physically stop him from sitting down next to me.

I didn't have to talk to him though. In fact, I was determined to ignore him.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Sam was just as good at remaining silent as I was. He seemed perfectly content to sit next to me taking quiet sips of the drink that magically appeared in front of him. Clearly he wasn't going to be offering an explanation for why he was here anytime soon.

I finished my beer and signalled to the bartender to bring another. Sam immediately shot that down.

"I think she's had enough already, don't you?" He accompanied his words to the server with a hard glare that sent the other man scurrying away pretty quickly.

My mouth fell open in shock at his presumptuous behaviour.

"What do you think you're doing?" My voice rose loudly with my anger.

He took another long draft before replying. "I think we both know that you've had enough for today."

It was neither an apology nor an explanation. Angry tears began to collect in my eyes.

Who was this man to say what I should or shouldn't do?

Sure he had saved me that night I was lost in the forest, and I guessed I was sort of grateful for that – although at times I did wish that had just left me to die of hypothermia out there. Since then though, he had been nothing but an irritation – a strange shadowy figure who lurked in the corner of my eye every time I left the house.

"You don't know me."

It sounded incredibly stupid and childish, but it was all I could think to say.

No-one, least of all Sam Uley, could say that they knew what I meant, how I thought, and whether or not I wanted another drink, just on the basis of seeing me from a distance a few times a week.

"I know that if you have any more to drink now, you're putting yourself at risk," he stated with that infuriating calmness.

I stared at him incredulously for a full minute and then huffing, slid off my stool and headed out of the bar, dragging my coat and bag behind me. I didn't even bother looking in my truck's direction as I traipsed through the parking lot. I may not have wanted to leave already, but I was well aware that I was in not fit condition to drive.

Holding my bag awkwardly, I shrugged into my coat one arm at a time and crossed over onto the main road.

"You shouldn't walk home alone."

Great. Now I couldn't escape him.

I kept walking.

"Bella," he called across the road. "Bella."

The sound of running footsteps came from behind me and then my arm was grabbed, stopping me in my tracks.

"Bella, wait up."

"Let go of me." I gritted my teeth and yanked angrily against his constraining hand.

To his credit, he immediately released his grasp. "Didn't you hear me over there?" he asked.

"Sam..." I looked up at him, trying to fathom out what he was thinking. "I just want to be left alone, okay? I don't want company and I don't want you doing... whatever it is that you think you're doing here."

He blinked down at me. "One of the guys from the res saw you down here at the bar. He didn't think that you should be drinking, especially since you're underage and he gave me a call."

None of that made any sense to me.

"Why is it any of your business?" I waved my hands in the air. "And why, if the Chief's daughter drinking is such a problem then didn't whoever it was call my dad...or, I don't know... tell the bartender that he shouldn't be serving me? Huh?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps he thought that I would be a better option than the Chief."

"You're never the better option, Sam."

I tried to ignore the flash of hurt on his face as I turned my back on him once more and began my trek again. "I'm sorry," I muttered as I walked away. "I didn't mean that."

"Look." He darted in front of me, making me stop again. "I know I'm not your favourite person right now but I can at least help you get back home safely. You shouldn't be walking all that way by yourself this late at night."

I tried to avoid his knowing gaze. "I'm not going home, so it's fine...thank you," I tagged onto the end.

He frowned. "Well where are you going then?"

I shrugged and looked down at the ground, stubbing the toe of my sneakers into the dirt.

His tone grew suspicious. "Where does Charlie think you're going?"

Biting my lip, I forced myself to gaze up at him defiantly. "Charlie thinks I'm staying over at a friend's."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Okay then. Let me take you there. My truck's in the lot and I haven't had much to drink; I can give you a ride to your friend's house."

Well, damn. Now what was I supposed to say.

Without my noticing, Sam had managed to take my elbow and was slowly leading me back across the road.

Huffing at him, I removed my arm from his grip, but continued to follow him to a grey truck parked away from the others. I climbing into the cab, I had to admit to myself that it was lot warmer in here than if I had been taking the long walk home.

Breathing into my hands, I rubbed them together to warm them up as Sam rounding the cab and climbed behind the driver's seat. He turned the engine on without a word and pulled smoothly out of the parking lot.

There were no streetlights on this stretch of road and the darkness, along with the soft hum of the engine and the warmth of the cab, was lulling me to sleep.

"Bella?"

My eyes fluttered open. Sam was glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

"Hmm?"

He took one hand off the steering wheel as if he was going to reach towards me, but then thought better of it.

"Bella, where am I going?"

His voice sounded very far away, almost dreamlike. I couldn't understand what he was saying though.

"Huh?"

"Your friend's house," he clarified. "We're nearly back in Forks and I don't know where I need to take you."

That woke me up. The friend's house. The one I had told Charlie, and now Sam, that I was staying out tonight.

Crap. This wasn't working out at all like I'd planned earlier on this afternoon, when in a fit of misery at Jake's rejection in front of his new gang of friends, I had felt that driving to Port Angeles and getting drunk was a really good idea.

At the time I hadn't really worried about how I would get home or where I was supposed to sleep.

I stayed silent, my mind racing as I tried to work out an answer to my problem. I could stay with a friend, I guessed. I expect that if I showed up at her door Angela would let me in, maybe Jess would too, but staying with either of them would require an explanation for why I needed someplace to stay. Plus, the odds on getting caught out by one of their parents were quite high. Charlie was at home so I couldn't go back there – again, more explanations would be required, especially if I showed up without my truck. And the last possible solution to the problem of where I was sleeping tonight, my truck, was currently sat in a parking lot an hour's drive away.

In the old days, the one person I would've been able to turn to in a situation like this, the one person I could rely on, was…

I burst into tears, unable to stop them rolling down my face at the thought that Jake didn't want to be my friend anymore. Normally I tried my best to never cry in front of anyone; I didn't like anyone seeing me that vulnerable. It seemed, however, that the four beers I had consumed that afternoon had lowered my defences completely and now I was a hiccupping, sobbing mess.

"Hey…hey…"

The truck slowed and then rolled to a stop. The next thing I knew I was being gathered in hot arms and placed on Sam's lap while he ran a hand soothingly up and down my back.

It almost felt like the tears were never going to stop. I had held it all in for so long and now it was all coming out. I didn't know how long I cried for before I realised that I was still curled up on Sam's lap, my face buried into his neck. The low rumbling I had vaguely noticed was in fact coming from his chest pressed against mine rather than the truck engine which had been switched off without my noticing.

I struggled to compose myself as Sam made low, crooning sounds, trying to get me to calm down. As comfortable as I felt in that moment, I couldn't forget that Sam was the reason why Jake wasn't talking to me anymore in the first place; he was part of the reason why I was upset.

Drawing in several deep, shuddering breaths, I managed to stop crying, and I brushed impatiently at my wet cheeks, annoyed at myself for showing weakness in front of someone else.

"Sorry."

I forced myself to push away from his warm embrace and slide back over to my own side of the cab. I seemed to be doing nothing but apologising to Sam today. No-one would ever believe that I wasn't normally this bad-tempered…maybe it was all the beer.

Sitting back in my seat, I resolutely pushed my hair back behind my ears and stared straight ahead, waiting for Sam to start the truck again.

He didn't move.

I finally chanced a look at him only to start when I found him watching me intently.

"You don't have a friend's house to stay at, do you?" he eventually asked, his voice carefully even.

I looked away from him before I answered. "No. Since…" I couldn't continue.

There was a long pause.

"Where were planning on staying?"

I shrugged. "I hadn't really thought about it. I only said that so that Charlie wouldn't worry about me."

He sounded angry when he next spoke. "He's got every right to be worried if you're going out doing stupid things like getting drunk with no way of getting home."

It was true; I knew it was true. It still hurt to have a man who was a virtual stranger tell me this though.

I just shook my head, unable to talk, to defend myself.

Sam sighed and I glanced across at him.

He looked…tired. One hand was rubbish at his temple and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes that I hadn't noticed before. But then, if he really was as exhausted as he looked then why was he wasting his time driving all the way to Port Angeles just to pick up a drunk girl he didn't really know.

"Come on."

Eventually, he started the truck again and pulled back onto the road.

I looked around anxiously as we turned off the main road into Forks. "Where are we going?"

He grimaced. "Back to mine. You don't have anywhere to stay and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you wander the streets all night."

My heart sank. Go to his house? To stay? I didn't trust him as far as I could throw him, especially when I thought about Jake and the haunted look that came into his eyes when he talked about the older boy and his gang.

"I don't want to go back to yours. I've changed my mind; I want to go home."

He scowled at me. "Don't worry about your virtue, sweetheart. I've got to go out again as soon as we get back. You'll be perfectly safe and I'll drive you back to Port Angeles in the morning to pick up your truck."

I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out. I couldn't think what to say and before my brain could engage with my mouth we were pulling into a long downhill drive and parking in front of a small two-storey house.

He turned off the engine and climbed out of the truck, leaving me behind. I stayed where I was sitting. I didn't know what to do. I could leave now while I had the chance, make my way across to Billy and Jake's and hope Charlie wouldn't be too mad at me, or I could take Sam up on his offer to stay at his while he was off doing... whatever.

Something told me that if I stepped through that front door though that things would change. I didn't know how or why, but a tingling in the base of my spine warned me that this decision was one that would change things.

As I sat there a spot of water appeared on the windscreen, follow by another, followed by a torrent.

Well, that settled it then. If I tried walking away now then I would end up drenched. Plus despite my reservations towards him and his suspicious behaviour, Sam _had_ looked out for me tonight.

I took a deep breath and then let myself out and ran towards the house. I hesitated on the porch for a second, staring into the gloom of the house and then stepped through the open door.


	2. Chapter 2

**So here's the second chapter of Resistance. I hope you all like it and thank you so much to everyone who's reading.**

**As you may or may not have noticed, I do not own Twilight. Sometimes this makes me sad.**

**Resistance**

The house was nearly in complete darkness with only the faint sheen of light emanating from upstairs. From what I could make out, Sam's house was mostly open plan with a huge living room separated from the kitchen by a breakfast bar. In one corner there was a closed door leading to what I guessed was a bathroom.

A set of wooden stairs ran along the back of the living room, and after quickly determining that Sam wasn't anywhere downstairs that I could see I moved slowly towards the faint light.

Unfortunately, I'd forgotten about the beers that I'd drunk earlier that evening and promptly lost my balance when I lifted my foot to the first step, crashing heavily against the wall.

"Oww."

Cursing myself inside my head, I rubbed my hand over my now sore arm and reached out to grab the rail so that I wouldn't overbalance again. The light in front of me dimmed and I squinted upwards to see Sam's silhouette shadowed above me.

I couldn't make out his face in the darkness, but his tone was grim was he spoke. "What happened?"

I shrugged, even though I knew he wouldn't be able to see me. "I tripped. It's no big deal."

He didn't reply but it was almost like I could feel his disapproval radiating down towards me.

"Come on," he eventually said.

I continued slowly up the stairs and blinked rapidly when I reached the top. The light up here was a lot brighter than it had looked from downstairs. A bare light bulb lit up a narrow corridor which had three doors running along it – two on one side and one on the other. I followed the sound of Sam's movements to the single door on my right and found myself in what looked like the master bedroom.

A giant bed took up most of the space in the room with a closet, a small bedside table and a chair being the only other furniture. It looked…Spartan, was the only way I could think to describe it. There was no personality in this room, no clues about what kind of man Sam Uley was. There was small bathroom off to one side where Sam had retreated and when I shuffled a bit closer I saw that he had changed out of the jeans and checked shirt that he had been wearing when he arrived at the bar and was now clothed only in a pair of raggedy cut-offs, his feet bare. It was the same uniform that he and his gang had been wearing when Jake had told me to go away, that we weren't friends anymore, and I felt a chill run up my spine.

What had I been thinking coming back here with Sam? – Not that he had really given me much of choice. But I knew nothing about the man, despite his apparent dependability, except that he was the reason why my best friend had suddenly abandoned me.

And now what? Just because he had given me a ride home, he was trustworthy? A man takes me back to his house – a man I hardly know, no less – and then strips half-naked. I was an idiot. A half-drunk idiot, and I needed to get out of there, before I lost any more of my sense.

With that in mind, I changed direction, slipping back out of the bedroom and down the hallway. I managed to not fall over or crash into anything for once and relief at having gotten away was just beginning to spread through me when Sam caught me half way down the stairs.

"Where are you going?"

I froze and then reminded myself that I didn't have anything to feel guilty for. "I changed my mind," I blurted out. "I know you said I could stay and that was really kind of you, especially as you didn't have to drive me all the way back from Port Angeles, but it would… it would be…" I scuttled down the stairs faster as Sam loomed into view behind me, flicking the lights on in the lower half of the house as he did. "It would be an imposition," I finished. "And so I thought I would go."

Sam crossed his arms over his shirtless chest and frowned, and I tried not to notice the way that his muscles bulged threateningly as a result.

"Go where?" he asked. "You've already told me that there's nowhere else you can stay tonight and I'm certainly not going to have you roaming the streets, especially not in this weather.

I glanced uncertainly out of the window, where the rain had increased in volume, lashing against the windows. It didn't look good, but then I wasn't so sure that staying inside was the wisest option either.

"I'll..." My brain wasn't working as fast as I wanted it to and my lack of options was glaringly obvious. "I just don't want to...impose," I repeated lamely.

Sam blinked and then finally uncrossed his arms.

"I wouldn't have brought you here if you were imposing." He moved towards the back door. "Besides, I've got to go out, so you won't be getting in anyone's way...if that's what you were worried about."

I glanced towards the window again. He was going to go out in _this_? After telling me not to?

"Why?" I couldn't help asking.

He paused and turned back to me. "Why what?"

"Why are you going out? It's raining."

Why did you bring me here? Why are you now leaving me alone? Why did you come to that bar in Port Angeles?

I only asked the first question; I was too afraid of the answers to verbalize the others out loud.

Sam frowned again and it flashed across my mind that I had never seen him look anything less than deadly serious all the time. His constant, blank-faced composure unnerved me, especially since I felt anything other than composed.

"I have..." This time it was him who hesitated briefly. "...responsibilities on the reservation."

"Then why did you come and fetch me?"

There! I had asked it, even though I was half-dreading the answer.

He blinked slowly again and then shook his head, a small movement, so small I nearly missed it.

"You should get some sleep, Bella," he eventually replied, not answering the question. "The spare room isn't made up, but you can use my bed." He was all business now. "I'm going to be out all night so you don't have to worry about getting in the way or being disturbed. I've left some aspirin on the side. You should take it; you don't want to have a hangover tomorrow."

He hesitated again for a brief second and then spun on his heel and left, the back door banging behind him as he went.

As if drawn by some mysterious tie, I shuffled over to the door he had just exited and peered out into the gloom. He wasn't out there, not that I could see anyway, but then it was so dark and the weather so bad that you could see anything. What was he doing out there?

Shivering, I looked around the room I was in now that it was lit up. A large table with eight chairs around it dominated the room, but towards the front of the house there was a small lounge area with a TV and two old, battered sofas in front of it. That was it. A quick glimpse into the kitchen revealed that it was just as bare. Like the bedroom, there was nothing in the rest of the house that indicated that Sam lived here.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I gave myself a hug. As much as it felt wrong to be here - wrong to be in Sam's house, wrong to take him up on his offer of a bed for the night - he was right, I didn't have anywhere else to go. I could only imagine the look on Charlie's face if I tried to go home now, drunk, dishevelled and without my truck or the friend I'd said I'd be with. I'd be grounded for weeks.

Staying here was the option that most made sense in that moment. And then in the morning I would get Sam to take me back to Port Angeles and pick up my truck, and that would be the end of it.

Turning the light off behind me, I stumbled my way up the stairs once more, fumbling my way towards the master bedroom once more.

I paused once I actually reached the bed.

Not only had Sam left me the aspirin as promised, but he had also laid out a glass of water, a clean t-shirt and pair of shorts to sleep in and a clean, unused toothbrush. He had thought of everything.

It was a kind gesture – thoughtful – and it made it just that little bit harder to hate him for what he done to Jacob.

The beers I had drunk earlier that evening had begun to take their toll on me. My brain was becoming fuzzier and my body felt heavy. Stifling a yawn, I moved slowly around the unfamiliar room, getting ready for bed.

I pulled back the covers and then paused. Sam had said that I was safe, that he was out of the house for the whole night – again I couldn't figure out why anyone would go out so late, especially in the middle of a storm – but the part of me that had been raised as a police chief's daughter was less trustful. Not only did I hardly know Sam, but I was alone in his house, at night, and no-one else had a clue where I was.

Hurrying back over to the door, I flipped the lock, and then pushed the chair over to block the entrance to the room. They were flimsy defensives, but I felt better for them.

It didn't take long for me to fall asleep after that and the next thing I knew, I was woken up by the sound of banging downstairs.

I bolted upright, confused for a moment as to where I was, my head pounding, before I remembered the events of the night before: the loneliness that had swept over me yesterday when I realised that Jacob never wanted to speak to me again, driving to Port Angeles, sitting in a greasy bar drinking. Sam.

The chair was still wedged under the door handle and now, in the cold light of day, I felt a little bit foolish. In fact, I felt a lot foolish. Last night had been an exercise in stupidity. What had I been thinking? – getting drunk, leaving myself stranded with nowhere to go, having a meltdown in front of Sam, the man who had convinced my best friend that I was no good, forcing him to offer me a place to stay.

Urgh. I was an idiot.

The best thing I could do now was get out of here, back to my truck and back to normal life as quickly as possible.

Scrambling to get dressed, I hopped about as I pulled my sneakers back on, pushing back the chair as I did so. Grabbing my jacket, I paused for a brief second, gathering my composure – what there was left of it – before unlocking the door and heading downstairs.

As I got to the top of the stairs, I heard two voices in the kitchen below and realised that Sam wasn't alone. There was another man with him and despite not being able to hear what they were saying exactly, I could tell from the tone of their voices that they were arguing.

The first stair down creaked when I stood on it and the voices immediately stopped talking, Sam appearing before me a second later. I blinked down at him. Even with my general clumsiness, I wasn't making enough noise for him to have heard me coming down.

"Bella." His face was as impassive as it had been the day I confronted Jacob. "You're awake."

I nodded and fought the urge to fidget. I just wanted to get out of there at that point, but Sam was blocking my way.

As if he realised that, he abruptly stepped aside. "You must want some breakfast." Turning his back on me, he walked in the direction of the kitchen.

I followed him more slowly. "Actually, I'm not that hungry, thanks. I'd rather..." My words trailed off as I saw the owner of the other voice I had heard earlier. My mouth slammed shut.

It was one of them. One of Sam's acolytes, as Jake had called them. This one was shorter than Sam, they all seemed to be anyway, and I vaguely recognised him as one of the ones that we had seen cliff-diving only a few weeks before. I wracked my memory for his name.

Jared. That was it. This one was Jared. The one who had also been a friendly, talented boy before he had dropped all his friends to hang out with the older man. He was shirtless, like Sam was, and was dressed in the strange uniform that their little gang had all adopted.

Meeting his eyes, I noticed that he had been checking me out just as suspiciously as I had been looking at him. A scowl crossed his face.

"Jared." Sam's voice was low, warning.

Jared stopped staring and glanced towards his friend wordlessly, questioningly.

"Bella stayed here last night when she couldn't get home," Sam explained shortly. "Bella, this is Jared. Jared, Bella."

"I know who she is." The other boy was glaring at me again. I could only imagine how the whole situation looked to him – me coming down the stairs after spending the night, looking crumpled and dishevelled. I tried to ignore him, dragging my thoughts back to the issue at hand.

"Do you mind taking me back to my truck please? I think the sooner I get back home, the better."

Sam frowned. "Are you not hungry?" He seemed confused.

I shook my head. "No, but my dad will worry if I'm not back before long."

He studied my face and then nodded slowly. "All right then." He turned to the other boy. "Jared, I'm just running up to Port Angeles. I'll be back before long. Swap out with Paul when he's done."

Jared raised an eyebrow. "And her?"

I would've been insulted if I hadn't been so desperate to get out of there, away from Sam Uley and his gang, and back to my safe, sound life again.

A strange sound emerged from Sam, something that almost sounded like a snarl. My arms came up to wrap nervously around my waist. I didn't know what was going on between the two boys but I didn't want to be a part of it. "Leave it, Jared."

Jared ignored the admonition. "You know Jake will be..."

"Jared!"

The younger man stopped, his jaw clenched, and then spun around on his heel, stalking towards the door. "You know he'll have questions," he bit out before disappearing out the back of the house with a slam that made me jump.

Sam turned back to face me, a strange look upon his face. His eyes glanced down to my hands and following his gaze, I was surprised to see that I was shaking a little. I needed to go. Now.

"My truck," I prompted, my voice almost a whisper.

He reached out and grabbed his keys off the side, throwing them to me. I fumbled to catch them but somehow managed to keep them from falling onto the floor.

"You can wait in the car if you want. I just need to grab a shirt."

He gave another one of those inscrutable looks and then walked past me, his arm brushing against mine, raising goosebumps, before taking the stairs two at a time.

I practically fled the house, taking huge gulps of fresh air once I got outside.

Just one more hour, I told myself. Just one more hour of Sam Uley and then I would be done.

No more.


End file.
